diet

Don't call PETA, but I've been thinking about killing and eating a frog one of these nights camping. I saw it on some Discovery Channel show where some wilderness guy lives in horribly inhospitable biomes (tundra; desert; Gary, IN) and has to find food and shelter to survive. Well, he caught a frog and roasted it on a stick not unlike an amphibious marshmallow, and I just think I'd be so awfully badass if I could do that. But as I bike, I try to think of what it would be like to hold down a squirming, wet frog and place the tip of my knife on its skull, between its eyes, try to imagine leaning forward and letting my weight spike the blade past the bones and into the gushy, important stuff that keeps it alive.

Nope, I can't do it. Something about frogs, the adorable way they hop and sing "Rainbow Connection" makes it difficult for me to slaughter them. But crayfish, on the other hand... those I'd be fine cooking because you don't have to actively kill them. It's more like a magic trick: boil water, place crayfish in water, cover, abracadabra, food! We found a bunch of them flopping under rocks in the Susquehanna River when we camped out in Laceyville, PA, but I didn't think of it at the time. But, then again, is it worth risking red tide disease, when actually we have plenty of food and don't need to be foraging?

Which brings me to the main topic of this blog: diet. I took a "before" picture of myself in bike shorts before we left and, to be honest, I don't think the "after" picture is going to look remarkably more fit. My mother has mentioned on numerous occassions over the past month how fat i've been getting. A few days into this ride, she left a message on my cell in Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines, that roughly translated as: "Don't eat the foods that make your tummy big." At first, I assumed that biking 60-80 miles a day would be enough to burn off whatever we eat, which has included pork rinds and a pickled egg from a gas station that, for some reason, was pink, including the yolk, so I didn't take her warnings to heart.

But, I've realized that while I enjoy biking, I don't actually enjoy the peddling part, and whenver possible, I stop peddling. When I do get around to peddling, I exert the least effort necessary to keep me upright on the bike, which may be why Ross and Julie have to spend extended breaks lounging on convenience store parking lots waiting for me. So while I am biking cross country, I'm doing the bare minimum necessary to even consider it exercise. I'm rarely even breaking a sweat.

So, after realizing this, I have taken my mother's advice and started buying fruits and vegetables and cheese from an aerosol can, which may not be Jenny Craig aprroved, but gives my body the necessary calcium and bacon flavoring it so desperately craves. I'm just warning you all, don't try to surprise me after this trip with Speedos or low rise jeans. I probably won't look any different except for a viscious farmer's tan and chaffing in areas that you hopefully won't be seeing anyway.